


I don't need her anymore

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: Drarry Dump [18]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort, Drarry, Ghosts, Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:43:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I was sixteen things were so much different. My life was on a runaway train and I was helpless to stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't need her anymore

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for a Moaning Myrtle prompt competition on a long gone website.

_  
What **did**  you two talk about all that time?_   
  
The question was innocent enough, even if the subject matter was rather delicate still. I didn’t respond for several moments, instead I let my gaze drift out the window as I thought back to that time in my life. It certainly was not one of my finer moments, and it’s nothing that I am proud of, but I have come to terms with it. I suppose its all part of growing up. A soft sigh escaped me and I turned to face him, the look of genuine curiosity he wore softened my expression and I smiled, leaning forward just enough to place my coffee cup on the table that stood between us.   
  
“Do you really want to know?”   
  
I asked him, knowing the answer but inquiring anyway. He nodded slowly and said ‘I do’ and I sighed again. A lazy breeze swept past us, catching my hair in its grasp, dancing with it before letting it fall back into place. It did nothing for his hair at all. I stared at the burnt orange skyline beyond the steadily setting sun and I realized; every story has its own time to be told.   
  
This is mine..   
  
When I was sixteen things were so much different. My life was on a runaway train and I was helpless to stop it. I was a puppet being tugged and shoved in so many different directions, even if I didn’t quite realize it till much, much later in my life. My family was steadily unraveling. Our trio had become a duo with my father now in prison. My mother was so brave, but I had to be braver. I wanted so desperately to prove my worth that I lost sight of everything else. I was nothing short of obsessed; racked with a silent desperation that saw no bounds whatsoever. Hogwarts is a lonely place when you are running against time. No one is ever  _truly_  your friend, and there is no one you can fully trust. It was a fluke that I happened to find myself in that second floor bathroom that day, but there I was thinking I was alone.   
  
Except I wasn’t alone.   
  
Of course I’d heard about her, the dead specky girl who haunted the loo. Who comes to Hogwarts and doesn’t hear a tale or two about Moaning Myrtle? She was unassuming at first, watching me as I stared at my reflection in the dusty and streaked mirror. I nearly jumped from my skin when she asked me what I was looking for and it took me a moment to realize that the voice had come from a ghost. I left in quite a hurry that day, but as the days passed into weeks I found myself back in her bathroom more and more often.   
  
 _You like spending time with me, don’t you Draco?_    
  
She had taken to hovering over my shoulder, staring at my reflection as I often did. Under normal circumstances I would have been quite rude to her, but these were hardly normal circumstances.   
  
“I like the lack of people here.”   
  
I would reply flatly, pale gaze catching her transparent one for a moment in the mirror.   
  
Sometimes we wouldn’t speak at all; she’d be hovering near the window and I’d be sitting on the ground with my back against the wall, trying to work out equations and spells. Sometimes she would be brimming with questions that would irritate me so much that I would storm out and not return for days at a time. Sometimes I would ask her what it was like to be dead, if it hurt. Or if it was lonely, or if she missed her mother. And sometimes, mostly towards the end, I would lean over one of the worn and chipped sinks and splash my face with water to mask the tears that I didn’t want to admit were there and she would stand behind me with one of her hands hovering just above my shoulder. She often tried to pull things from me, information about what I was up to, mostly. I never told her much, and although I couldn’t admit it then, it was sort of comforting to have someone to not tell my secrets to who still accepted me for me.   
  
I will be the first to admit that I was little more than a coward when I was sixteen, and as the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, I could literally  _feel_  time closing in around me. By this time she knew all my dilemmas, I had long since abandoned trying to hide anything from her.   
  
"I can’t do it. … I can’t. … It won’t work . . . and unless I do it soon … he says he’ll kill me. …"   
  
It was the last thing I ever said to her, and it was nothing more than the pathetic whimpering of a scared little boy trying desperately to be a man. The last time I saw her I was lying on my back in a pool of my own blood, dying at the hand of my enemy and I’ll tell you a secret..   
  
I welcomed it..   
  
~   
  
I glanced across the table at him, brows furrowing slightly at the look of concern on his face. I shook my head softly, silently telling him that it hardly mattered now. It was nothing more than ancient history, a link in the chain that made up my often misguided life.   
  
 _“I’m sorry..”_    
  
He murmured, averting his gaze from me, mouth turned down into a slight frown. I watched him for a moment, wondering how he could retain so much empathy, even after all this time.   
  
“Don’t be.”   
  
I replied, pushing my chair back and rising to my feet. “I would have done the same to you.” I added quietly, rounding the table and holding out a hand for him to take. He looked up at me and I could see the hesitation in his movements. I smirked down my nose at him and shook my head, finger wiggling impatiently.   
  
“Let it go, I have.”   
  
The words were murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. His hand slipped in mine and I pulled him to his feet, leading him towards the balcony in silence.  
  
 _“Do you ever want to go back? Maybe see her again?”_    
  
I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, eyes cast up at the stars that now littered the night sky. I was silent for a long moment, chin resting on his shoulder.   
  
“I don’t need her anymore.”   
  
I replied finally, a smile curving my mouth upwards as we settled back against the chaise. It was the most honest thing I’d said in years, and I meant it.   
  
I don’t need her anymore..


End file.
